University of Virginia Library

BOOK XXIII.

SCENE, The Castle of Dolbadarn.
Fair Eleanor, and Cambria's noble Prince
Reach Dolbadarn, where, panting for the war,
David they find. Astonish'd at her tale,
David, with joy his promised sister hails,
And welcomes her, and tells her of the war,
So soon to cease; recounts the past exploits
Of Cambrians, fighting for their hills and vales,
Their homes and liberty.
“Here,” he exclaim'd,
“Thro' ages past, Cambria, in all her might,
“Hath planted on the rock her sturdy spear.
“This spot, impregnable, laughs at all harm.
“To Dolbadarn after thy hardships past,
“Welcome, my sister, and my future friend.
“Knowing that on this giddy eminence,
“In th' rudest hour, security reclines,
“I, to this spot, have summon'd her I love,
“And her sweet infants, fair as evening stars.
“Hourly I look, within these castle heights,
“To view my treasure. Thou wilt feel thy heart
“Join'd with my Gladis, for a sweeter mind,
“A breast more fill'd with all ennobling thoughts,
“Ne'er met in woman.” As with tender voice,
Thus he declared, Llewellyn hastens near!
Distraction in his eye, aloud he cries,
“The Foe advances! David, to thy post!
“My Eleanor! Let not thy spirit sink,
“Tho' warfare round should rage. 'Tis a brief storm;
“The morrow will be peace. O stay thy fears!
“Erelong and we shall smile, both thou and I.
“Farewell! Awhile I haste where duty calls.”
“Go!” Eleanor replied. “Saints be thy guard!
“I will, of Heaven, petition for my Lord!”
They part and now Llewellyn seeks his Chiefs.
The night Llewellyn fled from Conway's towers,
He cried, “Brave Tudor, tho' this place I leave,
“It must not be resign'd. To thy good arm
“I will confide it. Should the Foe assail,
“Thou wilt acquit thyself, as well becomes
“A noble Cambrian.” “By the sword I wield,”
Tudor exclaim'd, “I will. Now speed thou on,
“And may high Heaven prosper our valiant Prince.”
Llewellyn Snowdon sought, whilst Tudor's heart
Prepared itself for the approaching morn.
That morning came. Edward, for storm advanced.
To Lincoln, near, he cried. “The walls are thinn'd!
“I trust our crafty foe hath foil'd us not
“By the nocturnal flight. Chieftain, speed hence!
“Seize on what straggling Hind may cross thy way,
“And from him wrench the truth.” Lincoln departs.
That morn, in a near valley, deep embower'd
By roaring trees, thro' which a busy stream
Hasten'd along, while fast the rain came down,
An aged Shepherd, from his cottage door,
Beheld a Youth (the tall crook in his hand)
Pacing with earnest step. He hasten'd forth,
And heard him chant, thus, as he moved along.
Young Shepherd.
Wind and Rain, your fury hot
Makes the tall Larch round me bow;
Wind and Rain, I heed you not,
I am hastening homeward now.

Old Shepherd.
Stranger, from the driving storm,
To my friendly Cot repair;
With a British welcome warm,
Rest and food await thee there.

Young Shepherd.
I have travelled wide and long
Thro' gloomy skies and lonely ways;
And a sickness deep and strong
Now upon my spirit preys.

Old Shepherd.
Poor Youth! In pity, thee to cure
I'll call the Doctress, old and grey;
Her forest simples, choice and pure,
Soon shall chase thy pains away.

Young Shepherd.
Nothing here can ease my ailing,
Forest simples will not heal;
Know the cause of my complaining—
'Tis Home-Sickness which I feel.

Old Shepherd.
Home! What home is half so sweet
As my cot, and field and fold?
Hear the lambkins, how they bleat!
This clear bubbling brook behold!

Young Shepherd.
My Father's home, my Father's tillage,
His fields, his flocks, his herds I see;
And the brook of my own village
Is the sweetest brook to me.

Old Shepherd.
View yon hill, so bleak and bare,
Oft it mounts above the sky;
Whilst, around, the clouds of air
Float in silver majesty.

Young Shepherd.
We have clouds and mountains too,
Lovely clouds and mountains steep,
And from our door the evening view
Oft makes me on my pillow weep.

Old Shepherd.
This cottage, deck'd with flowers so gay,
My home from youth to age hath been;
Nor would I leave, for princely sway,
The loveliest spot that sun hath seen.

Young Shepherd.
Around my Cot, with breath serener,
The winds, their bowers of perfume leave;
The very leaves and lawns are greener,
And richer is the blush of eve.

Old Shepherd.
Ardent Shepherd, thee believing,
Thy home must breathe celestial spice;
To call it Earth is but deceiving,
'Tis a rosy Paradise.

Young Shepherd.
Oh! 'tis Earth, the more I love it!
Thy brook is sweet, thy cot is fair,
But my home is far above it,
Peace is here, but transport there.

Old Shepherd.
Tell me! Art thou near thy door,
Where first thou heard'st the torrent's sound,
And with intemperate joy didst pore
On forms, thy heart with cords that bound?

Young Shepherd.
A few more hills, my steps impelling,
A few more vales, O rapturous dream!
And I shall rush into my dwelling,
Mine own dear Cot, beside the stream!

Old Shepherd.
Thy transports rise above all measure,
The sun must there perpetual shine;
What else can give such boundless pleasure
To this wond'rous home of thine?

Young Shepherd.
Sweet it is beyond expression,
There I laugh'd in infancy;
There I lived to man's discretion,
And my home is dear to me.

Old Shepherd.
Hast thou those (their wish obeying)
Whom to greet, thy heart doth burn?
Hast thou those who chide thy staying,
And round their hearth thy absence mourn?

Young Shepherd.
I have a Father, good and tender,
Brothers prized, and Sisters kind;
I have a Mother, Heaven defend her!
And one other love behind.

Old Shepherd.
Ah! Thy sickness I discover!
Shepherd Youth, my blessing take;
And may happiness, for ever,
In thy breast her dwelling make.

To seek the home he loved, the Youth had turn'd,
When, hastening nigh, a warrior man they spied.
Up he advanced and spake. “The Foe is near!
“In the past night, fast to our Snowdon top,
“Llewellyn, hope of Cambria, hath escaped.
“To rouse the fever in each Briton's vein,
“I bear the tidings.” With an instant gush
Of patriot love, each Shepherd look'd to heaven.
Each, to the air, cast his inglorious crook.
The Old Man shouted. “Snowdon, to thy brow
“Instant I speed.” The Youth, with struggle hard,
Faintly replied. “First, I must seek my home.
“That treasure safe, and I will grasp the sword,
“And with my country live, my country die!”
He hastened on, and now, from his loved hill,
He look'd into the valley, to behold
His home, his cot, send up the curling smoke,
As erst, amid the trees. He saw it not!
Faint apprehensions, quick repress'd, arose.
With step that bounded with elastic tread,
He skimm'd the mountain's side. His heart within
Misgiving, he his eager footstep check'd.
The moss-grown roof he fear'd. With hands half rais'd,
Slow he drew near. The door wide open stood,
But no melodious voice welcomed him in!—
All there was still—a freezing solitude!
In shivering agony awhile he stood!
He turn'd! He wept! Ah! Deeper is his grief.
The brook, all foam, he thought it streak'd with blood!
And with a ghastly eye, momently look'd
To see some friend, borne on its boisterous wave.
Immersed in thoughts of horror, still he stood,
When by the Cottage door, near to his own;
(One Cypress shadowing both) trembling he saw
A new-rais'd grave, under the well-known tree!
Toward it he rush'd. Upon the bark he read:
Stranger! With sorrowing heart draw near
To heave the sigh o'er fallen worth;
As sweet a Tenant slumbers here,
As ever prest the lap of earth.
“Who? Who?” he cried. No living form was near.
The Trees no answer gave; the Brook, so loved,
Whose every wave he knew, deaf to his griefs,
Impetuous rolled along; the air was still!
His starting eye-balls round and round he roll'd
In agonized uncertainty, when, lo!
A humble grey-flag monumental stone
Told the sad tale—It was his True-Love's Grave!
Against the Cypress old, long time he lean'd.
To earth and all its scenes, heedless as she
Who on the peaceful turf rested beneath:
When Lincoln, seeking straggling Hind, drew near.
Absorbed in dreams profound, he spies the youth;
He seizes him and bears him to his King.
Edward exclaim'd, as th' drooping Youth advanced,
“What knowst thou of Llewellyn?” He replied,
Roused by a sudden impulse in his heart.
“When swords and spears grow on the beechen tree,
“I will disclose what of my Prince I know.”
“Strip him!” the King exclaim'd, “his heart shall bleed!
“Hither the Archers! Let them draw their strings
“Home to their chests, and send him to his grave.”
The Youth is stripp'd. The archers, in the front,
Stand, pointing death. Edward exclaim'd, “Withhold!
“Before you twang your bows, one word is mine.
“This moment answer, or the next too late!
“Where is Llewellyn fled? Tell me what course
“Thy Prince pursued. Instant! or death be thine!”
The Cambrian cried. “When I forsake my Prince,
“Me may my God forsake! What course he took
“Lies buried here, impenetrably deep.
“Now let the arrows twang! I am prepared!”
“Enough!” the King exclaim'd. “I do collect
“All I require. Thou own'st that he is fled,
“But dost disdain to tell the course he took,
“I know the course! Snowdon alone the spot!
“There only he is fled, for there alone
“Might he find transient safety. Noble Hind,
“I honour thee. Safe journey on thy way.
“I should have mourn'd to slay a youth so brave.”
To his surrounding chiefs, Edward thus cried,
“Let Conway stand! The branch is innocent.
“If we the trunk subdue, the limbs must fall.
“Instant for Snowdon! Ere Llewellyn pause,
“We will ascend up to that mountain height,
“And 'mid the clouds hurl the impetuous dart.
“Our fathers trembled at the steep ascent,
“Edward will dare it ere the sun descend.”
They march toward Snowdon. Lo! a Band appears
Fast-speeding to the King. All wait, perchance,
The instant combat. Warwick hastens on!
“Hail! noble Earl!” Edward, advancing, cried.
“Tho' firm and confident, in this our strength,
“More satisfied e'en Edward feels himself,
“When such a Chief, in such an hour, is nigh.”
Whilst journeying on, to gain old Snowdon's heights,
Warwick declared his progress in the war,
His march thro' Dinevawr, what Holds he seized,
What Castles levelled, and what Battles fought.
Edward he told, how from Lhanurst he fled
Thro' secret avenues, begirt around
By Cambria's Prince. He spake of Eleanor,
The Captive Maid, De Montford's beauteous Child;
How he had rescued her from Talbot's power,
And borne her on from Gloster. He declared
Her sorrows, and the tears she hourly shed
To be releas'd, and sent to Cambria's Prince,
Her plighted Lord. “Pardon me,” Warwick cried.
“Such woe severe, and such affection true,
“Such beauty, and so sweet a spirit mild,
“Never before I saw. I could have loved,
“But honor and the oath at knighthood sworn,
“Kept down the flame. Then pity in my heart
“Luxuriant rose. It might have moved a rock
“To see such loveliness bathed in her tears.
“I cried, ‘O Maiden! I, by Edward sent,
“Am now about to scourge the Cambrian Land.
“Thou, with thy Damsel, shalt my path attend,
“And at convenient time, e'en the first hour
“That offers, when among the Land of Hills,
“Thee, to Llewellyn, truly will I send;
“And, till that hour, beneath Earl Warwick's spear,
“And, guarded by his honor, thou art safe.’
“We at Lhanurst arrived. Fill'd with surprise,
“That night, Llewellyn, 'mid our Castle walls,
“Begirt us, and perchance, e'en I had fall'n,
“But for that secret path of which I spake.
“Thence, when I fled, the Maiden Eleanor,
“I left with her attendant, to rejoice
“Llewellyn with his unexpected prize.
“If I have err'd, O Monarch, pardon me!”
Edward exclaim'd. “Brave Earl receive my praise!
“Thou art a true-born Knight. Thy heart was form'd
“With me, in Palestine, where thou didst learn,
“(And in our wanderings thro' Earth's various climes)
“The spirit mild of courteous chivalry.
“Thou hast most nobly done! I do deplore
“That when I heard of Eleanor, betroth'd
“E'en to our foe, and in the course of things
“Made captive, that I sent her not, secure,
“To him she loved: Th' omission of thy King,
“Thou hast repaired, and my heart honors thee!
“Thou spak'st of Talbot!” Warwick sudden cried.
“A coward and base man! Once with my spear,
“I beat him to the earth, and when we meet,
“I will pronounce him traitor, and again
“Measure the lance. He Gloster's towers resign'd,
“Most dastardly. Not e'en a dart exchanged.
“And when Llewellyn with a daring hand
“His passage forced, and shouted victory!
“The coward, in amaze, precipitate,
“Plunged in the circling mote! headforemost fled,
“I know not whither, but Earl Warwick swears,
“When next they meet, to slay, or to be slain.
“When Brecknock's sturdy castle I subdued,
“I found the men Llewellyn prisoners made,
“Taken from Gloster. They disclosed such scenes
“Of that Arch-Hypocrite and Traitor vile,
“That when thou hear'st these men (they now are near
“Amid yon ranks) thine eyes with wrath will beam,
“And thine indignant heart glow with disdain.”
Edward exclaim'd aloud, “Listen, Brave Earl!
“Cambria's famed Bards Talbot unshrinking slew,
“(Thus swelling his stupendous hill of guilt)
“Yea, slew them in cold blood. Now do I find
“That Cowardice and Cruelty are join'd,
“Indissolubly firm. One spirit theirs.
“When we the Cruel Man behold, assured
“There do we see a Coward! To the strong,
“Abject! and to the weak, fierce! pitiless!
“Mercy should be estranged from this my breast:
“He should be hang'd up to some mountain oak,
“But that, self-murder'd, he hath foil'd our rage.
“Altho' beyond the sword which Justice wields,
“His name shall perish, save in that dark scroll
“Where cowards, and assassins, and the base,
“Find refuge, till oblivion drinks them down.
“Know, noble Earl, we must our hearts prepare
“For fiercer combat and more deadly strife.
“We haste toward Snowdon, where Llewellyn waits,
“And shame, or vict'ry.” Warwick answer made,
“To lift the warrior's lance, this is my joy.”
And now to meet the Cambrians they pass on,
With firmer step and hearts more resolute.
The base of Snowdon, lifting its proud head
Above the line definable of sight,
Now have they reach'd. Hill piled on hill it seem'd,
Barren and bare, where scarce the blade would grow,
Whilst the wild-thyme shrunk from its bleak abode,
Just peeping from the fissures of the rock.
Placid and still, from some protuberant
And age-worn crag, with lifted horn sedate,
And beard long-flowing, the majestic goat,
With naught of fear, gazed on the multitude;
Doubtful, as it might seem, whether to stand,
And, by brave hardihood, th' obtruders daunt,
Or flee to other eminence remote,
Among the mountains, cave or pathless wild.
Save here and there a solitary form
Thus gazing, buried in the mine of thought,
Nothing of life appear'd, o'er that wide track
Where Desolation seem'd to make her home.
Earl Lincoln, toward the King, bending drew near,
Thus he began. “Monarch! my hairs are grey.
“Pardon my words! This is a Wilderness,
“Where nothing but a Cambrian may exist,
“Save yon grey goats that gaze thus thoughtfully.
“O King, if thou should'st hear, calmly, my words,
“Ascribe not aught to dread; I know it not,
“But to concern and deep solicitude
“For thee and thine.—Let not thy steps ascend
“These mountains wild! Dangers, beneath the turf,
“Lie hidden, hazards perilous, and traps
“Fatally deep. I am grown grey in war.
“I follow'd to this spot thy Sire of old.
“Triumphant was our march, till here we found,
“I blush to own, discomfiture! We fled
“Before the Cambrians' valour. Well they knew,
“Where to plant ambush, and unseen molest
“Our wilder'd footsteps. If thou dare these heights,
“I tremble for thy fame! Hear me, my King!
“Were it not wiser to surround this hill;
“To hem our stubborn Foe on every side;
“To build the fort; to rob them of supply;
“To waste their lands; to cut off all escape;
“And starve them to subjection? Hunger's pang,
“Down to the dust, will bring the loftiest heart,
“As the frost tames the wildest wing of heaven.
“Most noble Potentate, ere thou resolve,
“Ponder these things.”
Edward indignant cried,
“Lincoln! I know thy heart or I should deem
“All that thou-say'st, offspring of cowardice.
“Not dare these hills! by lurking dangers scared!
“Thou know'st me not! Dangers and toils at bay,
“My spirit thrives among the hazardous,
“And 'mid exploits that make the Coward quake!
“If my Forefathers found defeat and shame,
“When daring Snowdon's heights, he who succeeds,
“Where others fail'd, stands on superior ground,
“And seizes Fame for his inheritance.
“Tho' spears were countless as the summer fly,
“I would disdain them, and still urge my way,
“Up this proud Snowdon, to the Foe in arms!
“Thou talk'st of rearing forts, of hemming in,
“By patient perseverance, Cambria's Prince;
“Nay, I will meet him boldly in the field.
“Should e'en our tardy spirits shun the fight,
“And here the castle raise—around these hills
“Gather our strength, whence must our food arise?
“Is there a living spring beneath our feet?
“Or must we, like Heaven's dew, gather our bread,
“From the compassionating Elements?
“This instant, I will mount and meet the Foe.”
Lincoln, obeisant stoop'd, and now the Host
Ascend, with toilsome step, up the steep side;
Edward the foremost; and, by unsubdued
And ceaseless hardihood, now have they pierced
The belting clouds that half-way veil the mount,
And onward still they press their toilsome course.
Gladdening the sight, the turrets now they spy
Of Dolbadarn's aerial eminence;
Whence first the Cambrians saw the Foe advance.
As England's waving banner shew'd itself,
Thus to Llewellyn, earnest, David spake.
“Give me some daring Band, I will haste on
“To yonder brow, and meet the Enemy,
“Whilst thou draw forth all slaughter instruments,
“And brace the spirit of our noble race,
“Here in this Castle. Edwall, my brave Friend,
“He shall support me, and our swords shall teach
“Edward our Foe, how Cambrians, on these hills,
“Fight lion-like, for all that cheers man's heart.”
“Go!” cried Llewellyn. Harass their ascent!
“From yon uplifted pinnacle supreme,
“Send the huge stone, bounding from hill to hill,
“The lance and dart. I, for the keener strife,
“Straight will prepare, and victory or death
“Cambria shall know, ere yonder sun descend.”
The choice is made. David propels himself,
(Young Edwall by his side, courting the strife)
Thro' the wide gate, follow'd by valourous men,
Impetuous for the strife, and forth they speed
Toward th' assailing Foe, that upward still
Urges his footsteps. David, from above,
Sends the fast-rolling stones, many and huge,
Bounding, that in their course scatter'd dismay,
And sudden death, wide thro' the English host,
Check'd by naught human, in their ponderous flight.
Still boldly they ascend; and now the dart,
In nearer contact, whizzes thro' the air,
As the lance rattles on the burnish'd mail.
David impetuous cried. “Follow my steps!
“I will descend down to the English ranks,
“And like the storm, amid the forest leaves,
“Drive these our Foes down Snowdon's craggy side.”
He said, and rush'd amid the thickest ranks,
His hardy veterans pressing on his heels.
And now the fight begins!—bitter and keen!—
All horrible and deadly sounds arise—
Dart, spear, and lance, and buckler, sending forth
Their varied discord, whilst the busy sword
Incessant falls and rises, gleaming far,
Inebriate with man's gore.
Bold-hearted Prince!
Thou art entangled now! Edward is near!—
Before whose might, spirits the stoutest fall,
Like snow (on some December's cheerless morn)
From trees wide-branching, dropping in huge flakes
From limb to limb, when from their brief repose
The winds arise. Edward the Cambrian meets.
Two hungry panthers of the waste less fierce!
Blow follows blow!—David his buckler drops!
His wounded arm hangs senseless, and, at length,
Prostrate he sinks on earth! Young Edwall near,
Espies his Friend's extremity. His sword
Rushes to aid him! Warwick starts between!
And now the Briton and the English Earl
Contend for mastery. Hard is the strife!
Fierce and most vehement!—Young Edwall falls!—
To save his friend, never to rise again,
The true, the brave, the valiant Edwall falls!
“Pursuit! Pursuit!” sounds on all sides, when lo
The Cambrians fleet as air haste up the hill,
And toward Llewellyn rush, bearing the news
Of their disaster and Prince David's fate!
Edward (the day secure) David demands.
David appears, pale as the dewy cloud!
His blood had flown, and languor, not of heart,
Sat on his brow. Edward aloud exclaim'd,
“Traitor to me thy Prince! Now shalt thou taste
“The fruit of Treach'ry, for, by Highest Heaven,
“I swear thy heart's-blood ere an hour shall flow!”
David replied. “O King! One crime is mine,
“Pre-eminent, that others veils in night,
“From their contracted insignificance!—
“All others do partake of innocence.
“Edward, I call'd my King! I swore to him
“Allegiance and the homage of the heart!
“Forgive me, O my Country! Call me not,
“To thee, a traitor! Other treachery
“My spirit may endure, but, that my tongue
“Should pledge its faith to thy most bitter foe!—
“That I should lift my sword against thy breast—
“The breast that nourish'd me!—This last offence,
“So deadly in the sight of man and Heaven,
“Forgive me, O my Country! Now, O King!
“Thy pardon!—I would gorge the molten brass
“Rather than crave it. I am in thy power!
“I shrink not from my doom. I covet death.
“But there is one behind, who will return
“To thee and to thy race—to this whole host—
“To England, who would lord it o'er our land,
“Destruction to the uttermost, dismay,
“And vengeance, sweeping as the wintry blast.”
Edward exclaim'd. “No parley here I hold,
“Nor shall thy uncouth rage quench my resolves.
“David! Thou sufferest, not that thou, this day,
“Art vanquish'd in fair fight. There were in that
“Title to credit and chastised renown;—
“But for dishonor to thy lawful Prince!
“For treachery and the solemn oath abhorred!
“For that thou didst receive, at this my hand,
“Knighthood, and Edward own thy King, then turn
“Thine arms upon thy Monarch. David, know,
“Not as a Cambrian, but an English Knight,
“Thou suffer'st, and the sentence Justice owns.
“If deeds, like thine, O Man, should find excuse,
“What crime would merit death? Prepare the axe!
“Bear him to yonder smooth and jutting crag,
“And sever, from his trunk, his trait'rous head!”
David replied. “At hour, like this, O King!
“It were unwise to cherish wrath, and speak
“With fierce recrimination. I would check
“The ardour of a mind, prone to rebel,
“And my last moments calm to placidness.
“I could have wish'd, if Heaven had seen it meet,
“To live, till that bless'd day, when, in her pride,
“And shouting victory, Cambria rear'd her head,
“Triumphant in her excellence of power;
“This blessing is denied. One boon I crave.
“Edward will not refuse a dying prayer!—
“My Friend! My Brother! Edwall is no more!
“Brave Edwall, thou art slain! Thy blood hath flow'd
“To save thy David. In thy prime thou fell'st!
“O Edwall! (joy of her who brought thee forth,
“Henceforth, th' ordained child of wretchedness!)
“Thou wast most dear to me! Thy pleasant voice
“Was music to my ear! Our hearts, thro' life,
“Were knit together. O, my fallen friend!
“My brother! For thy fate doth David mourn!
“Say, Edward! Wilt thou spurn my earnest prayer?
“As we were one in life, Edwall and I,—
“The better He!—O let one grave be ours!
“When I am dead, place me beside my friend.
“In death our bonds will last, and our remains
“Shall mingle, till the Trump of God shall sound!”
Edward, amid his breast, felt conflict hard.
Mercy, within his heart, held a high seat,
But Justice had a voice. Edward's resolve
Now half relax'd, when, thinking of the crimes
That hung on David's head—his treachery—
The fierceness of his spirit when let loose—
His scorn of vows and solemn covenants—
His havoc in the war, loud he exclaim'd,
Tearing the words from his rebellious heart,
“It must be done! My vow, my oath is past!
“Lead him away, lest my fix'd spirit melt,
“And I the coward practise to myself.
“Hence! Bear him off!”
David is borne away!
His neck is bared! “Let me behold,” he cried,
“Edwall, before I die!—Dear bleeding corse!
“And is this he, whose eye was like the light!—
“Whose limbs the nimble antelope outstripp'd!—
“Whose frame was as the oak's stability!
“Is this the young, the generous, and the brave—
“The noble Edwall!—He, whose spirit shrank
“From the unmanly thought, and in whose heart
“All virtues throve, their native element!
“Can this be he who whisper'd oft of Heaven,
“Who fear'd not, in a scoffing world, to own
“Faith in his Maker, and a confidence
“In his most precious Son—the refuge now,
“To which I fly, a sinful man! when earth,
“And all its vanities, fade from my view—
“That hope—the only sunshine of my breast!
“Are these the lips, from which unceasing flow'd
“Wisdom, and melting words of sympathy,
“And kindness, tender as the dew of Heaven!
“Is this my Edwall—he whose heart to me,
“Teem'd with affection—mangled thus and bare!
“Must I too, when a few more pulse have beaten
“Lie senseless on the chilling earth, and wear
“This hue of death!—The spirit hence is flown,
“This is not Edwall! In celestial worlds
“Happy he roams, and I will join him there!
“Now do thy office!” From his o'ercharged eye,
The axe man wiped the tear, and as the Prince,
E'en David, on the rock, stretch'd his bare neck,
His axe he raised and, with one furious blow,
Sever'd his head!—Rushing impetuous on,
A man is seen! Young Stanley hastens near!
“Stop!” He exclaim'd. “Withhold thy instrument!
“Spare David! I from Edward respite bring!”
Mercy too late arrives! The deed is done!
David hath bid adieu to all below!
When on the sanguine turf, wounded and faint,
David lay stretch'd, him Stanley eager sought,
And with the feeling eye, and soothing voice,
Cheer'd him, and bade his spirit not despair.
“I will entreat of Edward,” he exclaim'd,
“Thy life and liberty. I know his heart,
“Relenting, save in wrath's first fiery gust.”
Young Stanley rose, and eager sought the King.
“Spare him!” On bended knee, thus he began.
“My life to him I owe. High Potentate!
“Like the Most Merciful hear thou my prayer!”
“Off!” Cried the King. “The man, who takes our robe,
“We hang, remorseless; shall we traitors spare?—
“Even one, like him, form'd to set worlds on flame?
“Who hath so wrong'd our confidence! One hour
“Sworn true allegiance, and the next, our spoils
“Seized on, our castles, late by valour won!—
“The lion of the wilderness is trapp'd!
“Cease! Bear thy sorrow to some friendlier mart!
“I scorn it! As thou livest, he shall die!
“Hither! Conduct the Cambrian to our sight!”
Stanley, with sadden'd brow, heard Edward's voice.
Then, sighing, back retired, smiting his breast,
And wander'd forth, alone, to the far crag.
Ah! Who is she that hastens toward the King?—
Wilder'd her look, and eager gazing round,
An infant clinging to her unrobed breast,
And by her side, a boy with piteous mien?—
David's fond Wife! “Tell me, aloud she cried,
“Where is your King? Let me address his ear!
“Say! Where is Edward?” Stanley saw and rush'd,
Eager to seek the sorrowing woman, wild.
“Here! Speed!” He cried. “I will conduct thy steps
“To Edward! Thou shalt plead, nor plead in vain!”
Onward she hastes. The King, at length she sees.
“O, tell me!” She exclaim'd. Where is my Lord?
“Pardon him, noble Monarch! Spare a life,
“Most dear to me and to these Innocents!”
At the soul-moving sight of woman's tears,
Of children weeping, earnest looking up,
Edward's firm soul relaxed. “Granted,” he cried.
“Allay thy grief! Stanley, my herald thou!
“Speed to the captive! Stay the fatal deed!
“Lose not a perilous moment in thy flight!”
Young Stanley, ere the last word utterance found,
Rush'd, with the tidings beaming from his eye.—
Back he returns, slow, gazing at the earth.
“Hast thou convey'd our respite?” Edward cried.
Stanley, his soul within melting away,
Trembled, and strove to speak, at length he cried,
“David is dead!”
A sudden shriek of woe
Unutterable, burst from David's Wife!
Frantic she cried! “Dead! Is my David dead!
“O King, in tenderness, let me too die!
“And these poor babes!” A flood of bitter tears
Choak'd utterance. Edward pour'd th' impetuous groan.
“It is too much for mortal man!” He said.
“O war! Thy fruits are these! Bear her away!
“Be courteous to the sufferer! Sooth her grief!
“And when the wars shall cease, we will devise
“Welfare for her, and for her orphan boys!—
“Now other scenes await!
“Yon towering spires,
“Ere we have time to touch on softer strings,
“First must be ours. Thro' the fast coming night,
“This be our resting-place. Upon the morn,
“New triumphs wait us! Now, while pity sighs,
“And by the light of the faint-glimmering star,
“Beneath this mountain turf, we will entomb
“Edwall and David.” Lo! A man draws near,
Ancient, and with a harp of massy frame.
Edward aloud exclaim'd. “I know him well,—
“Lhyrarch, the Cambrian Bard!”
As he advanced,
The King approach'd and spake. “Withhold thy prayer!
“New sorrow would be mine, to hear thee plead,
“In Pity's voice, for David.—He is dead!
“Behold his corse outstretched, and by his side,
“The valiant Edwall! In the gust of wrath,
“The voice went forth, and now too late I mourn.—
“In this my breast anger too deep hath dwelt.
“Would that the end, the union of our lands,
“So needful, I, with purer joy, had reach'd.
“It is a bitter moment, and sore pangs
“And pungent I do feel, piercing my heart.
“Bard! Known and honor'd, Edward supplicates!
“There lie thy friends, no more! As the last rite,
“This hour we bear them to their final home.
“Sing thou the ritual hymn, the song of death;
“I too will be a mourner.”
On the bier
The dead are placed. Lhyrarch, to earth estranged,
In steadfast vacancy, o'er dart and lance,
Plume, buckler, warrior, gazed. No word he heard;
No object saw. The veil of night drew near;
Silence around. His spirit back returns!
When, from his languid orb, a fearful beam
Shot, whilst he gazed upon the corse beneath.
The sigh sent forth, hard labouring, from the depth
Of th' unseen heart, sudden, he swept the chord.
Lhyrarch his hand withdrew. No voice was hear'd.
The breeze pass'd by, whistling shrill harmony,
When all again was still! 'Mid the deep pause,
A Youth advances slowly to the grave.
Down ward he looks.—Not oft on hostile ground,
Hath there a mourner stood, truer at heart
Than Stanley, when he cried, “Brave Men, farewell!”